


Bits and Drips

by Sarisk



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anger, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hunting, Soulmates, Teasing, UF!Sans, WHERE IS THE PEANUT BUTTER, Will add tags as I go, dalliance, fails, just for fun, possessive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-08-31 03:04:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8561161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarisk/pseuds/Sarisk
Summary: A collection of prompts, updated here and there. Have an idea? Send it my way and I may just write it.





	1. As Fast as She Can

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk can run - but for how long?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Underfell Sans and Undertale Frisk.  
> Inspired by "Dalliance," by @thebananahasspoken (18+)  
> Contains light spoilers for Dalliance.

Stars be damned. When he finally got his hands on her, she’d regret running from him. He’d offered her an out. Why hadn’t she just gone back to the damn shed?  
  
Sans seethed, fists clenched as his eyes scoured over the lit pools of Waterfall.  
  
Frisk had sure given him a run for his worth. Dodgy, she’d managed to drag him in circles. Each time he’d caught trace of her, she’d foil him— one way or another.  
  
Once, she’d jumped into the river to cover her tracks. Another time, she’d hitched a ride with the damned ferryman. At every turn, she was throwing him off her trail.  
  
_Oh_ when he got his hands on her, he would revel in her screams. Make sure she got him off ‘til she couldn’t breathe. Guilt be damned—she would learn the consequence of crossing him.  
  
Despite himself, he could feel it— feel the soft, stirring glow of admiration. Deep within his dejected soul, he couldn’t help but admire her tenacity. Had anyone else been on the hunt, she’d have escaped.  
  
Hell, if it weren’t for her stories and their soul bond, even _he_ may have lost her. He didn’t want to think about how easily she could’ve slipped away.  
  
Sans grimaced, sneering at the sloppy footprints in the muddied dirt. Frisk had taken to the pools to throw him off yet again, but left clear evidence in her wake. His magic burned at the idea of her cutting him off yet again.  
  
They were too far for the damned octopus to be a problem. She'd managed to slip by the monsters that prowled Waterfall as well.  
  
How long would it be before he finally caught up? Before someone got to her first?  
  
Magic crackled in the air as his anger mounted. He’d be damned if another monster laid a single finger on her.  
  
A breeze swept through the caverns and his smile spread with glee. He could smell her in the air—her sweet scent drowning him.  
  
They’d been apart a few hours at best and yet, in his frenzied state, it had felt like weeks. His fear of losing her sparked a salacious desire to drown himself in her taste and bury himself in her warm folds.  
  
_Stars_ , what had she done to him?  
  
The longer she evaded him, the greater his anger mounted. So close, he could feel his soul reaching for hers. His frame shook with each step as he tracked her prints. Meticulous in his hunt, his eyes narrowed. Magic crackled lazily in his socket, the red light dancing off the tight walls as he slugged through the mud.  
  
A chill nagged a the edge of his soul, bidding his anger to quell—if only for a moment. His ego won out, squashing the doubt in an instant. No sooner did the sensation die, than did it resurface. His soul refused to remain still. It shook, as if afraid.  
Was this another sign of the soul rend? How fast was he dying?  
Sans slowed to a stop, brow furrowed as he scoffed. _Dying_. How could a human—so weak and pathetic a creature—hold such control over him?  
  
_Weak_.  He nearly laughed at himself. His human was anything but weak. Hell, she was stronger than he ever could ever hope to be. Determination was practically her name. He paled in comparison.  
  
That only served to piss him off more. He hated being outclassed by anyone—mate or otherwise.  
  
How he ached to see that resolve broken from her eyes. The corners of his mouth curled into a malicious smile at the image he conjured up.  
When he found her, that determination would be the _first_ thing to go.  
  
The hall turned, pieces of rock crumbling to the ground at the juncture, and Sans paused. His eyes followed the flickering of shadows along the walls, brow furrowing. A fire?  
  
Gerson had taken to putting up torches to scare off wayward temmie, though they were often left unlit. Had Frisk already reached the old reptile?  
  
A grin split the skeleton’s face as he drew closer, hands itching to reach out and claim his prize.  
_Come out, come out wherever you are_.  
  
Magic surged through his bones, cracking and popping wildly in his socket. Victory swelled within his soul—there was nowhere she could run that he would not find her.  
  
He crept slowly as Frisk edged into view, snarling silently as he reached for her. His sharp bones glinted in the light of the torch. Close— _so close_. Just a bit further and he could—  
  
Frisk turned, eyes widening as she caught sight of him. A small cry caught in the back of her throat as the torch fell from her hand, extinguished by the puddle at her feet. Blazing red lit the halls as euphoria filled him.  
  
Her face paled, lip trembling, and he found great satisfaction in seeing her balk before him. His rage outweighed the flinching of his soul. It mounted like an uncontrollable beast—until his eyes met hers.  
  
The moment his phalanges curled around her arm, his soul soared. He inhaled, lungs filled fresh with her scent as her soul thrummed in response to his. His expression softened, magic ebbing until it was little more than flickering, ambient light.  
  
Her hair clung to her cheeks, body drenched from her venture through the pools. She raised her chin, standing tall in defiance.  
  
“I’m not going back,” she snapped. Her voice quavered, but that damned determination surged in her lovely eyes. “You can’t make me go back with you.”  
  
She leaned away from him, ready to bolt at the first opportunity. He crushed her against him, nearly laughing at the thought. As if she could outrun him. As if she could _ever escape him again_.  
  
Sans grinned, tongue snaking from between his teeth to slide along her neck. She recoiled, trying to push him away and magic thrummed deep in his belly at her resistance. Already, his soul was reaching for hers—pushing against his resolve. He’d have to be careful or risk drowning senselessly in her.  
  
He would have his fun later—when they were alone. When he could hear her scream for him, undisturbed. When he had her chained once more.  
  
Frisk’s breath caught as he tore down the shoulder of her dress, mouth curling as he caught sight of his mark. He could feel his magic cycling through her veins—claiming her as his. Absently, he drew his thumb over the marred flesh. Pride swelled from deep within as she shivered against his touch.  
  
“Don’t fucking do that again,” he growled against her ear, his voice low. Her fingers tightened in his jacket and he pressed a hand to the small of her back. “You’re comin’ home. You got that?”  
  
_Home_? He pulled Frisk closer to him, reveling in her soft curves against his unforgiving bones. His eyes fell closed as he reaffirmed himself.  Home. That was her place—by his side.  
  
It didn’t matter how far she ran. He would always find her and return her to his side. Was that how his double felt? Though loathe to admit it, they shared a soul. She’d been his once.  
Just how alike were the two of them?  
Disgust wove its way into his soul, thick and filled with envy. His fingers dug into his fragile human's skin. Red pricks of blood stained her dress in the wake of his anger and the skeleton smiled smugly at her stifled cry.  
  
Regardless of her affections, she was his now. And he wasn’t ever letting her go.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like this work? Suggest another!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr: http://thesariskwriter.tumblr.com


	2. In This Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected call from Sans leads to an evening of truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Undertale Sans and Frisk. Post-Pacifist.  
> Inspired by the prompt: "You receive an unexpected phone call."

Frisk’s cell phone buzzed on the table, the sound drawing her from her partial slumber. Somewhere between Mettaton reruns and browsing the UnderNet, she’d dozed off.

  
Muttering complaints to herself, she rubbed her eyes and snatched the phone. Who could be calling her so late? Tonight was her night off and her workplace had closed early for the annual festival. 

  
Frisk straightened, warmth curling in her belly, at the name flashing on her screen.

  
“Hello?” she answered, listening intently for the voice on the other end.

  
“Hello?” echoed the monster. “You there, kiddo?”

  
Frisk bristled, snorting despite herself. She leaned back into the chair, sinking in as she sat aside her laptop.

  
“I’m not a kid, Sans.” She grimaced when he chuckled. “I’ve told you to stop calling me that.”

  
When would he let that joke die? They weren’t in the Underground anymore. She wasn’t some hormone-crazed teen, like she'd been back then.

  
“Figured you’d want to get out of the house,” he went on, pedaling past her complaint. “The festival ends tonight. Have you been, yet?”

  
Surprised, Frisk went silent for a moment. Was he… _asking her out_? On a _date_?

  
“Just you and me?” she asked hesitantly.

  
“Not a problem, is it?”

 

Heat flooded Frisk's cheeks, her breath catching as her heart picked up its pace. She swallowed the lump in her throat, wetting her lips as she considered the offer.

  
“N-Not at all.” She hoped her voice was more relaxed than she felt.

  
Sans didn’t seem to notice the difference, making a sound of confirmation on the other end of the line.

  
“Great. Pick you up around eight, then?”

  
“Sounds like a date,” she responded, chuckling.

  
The line went static. A cold chill sank in as the skeleton remained silent. Did he not get the joke? Had she screwed up?

  
“See you at eight,” came his voice at last. While his tone was jovial, it was terse—the words clipped.

  
The line went dead without another word.

  
Frisk dropped her head into her hands. That could have gone better. 

  
Everyone from Snowdin to the Surface knew that she’d been crushing on Sans since they’d met. Everyone but the skeleton monster himself, of course. Not that he didn’t send her mixed signals of his own.

  
Since coming to the Surface, Sans had openly refrained from being alone with her. It had gotten worse as she'd grown, but that hadn’t stopped her growing affections.

  
After he’d begun avoiding her, she’d started noticing the subtlety in his actions. Started noticing that he held onto her a bit longer when they hugged. She’d started noticing how he'd watch her, when he thought she wasn’t paying attention.

  
If questioned, the skeleton monster would wave it off with a joke. Subject dropped.

  
Frisk wasn't doing herself any favors, either. In all her years of knowing Sans, she’d never told him of her affections for fear of rejection. The two were at a stand still.

  
Sans had arrived right on time.  His iconic grin in place as he cracked a pun about what a _bone-rriffic_ time the two of them were going to have. He didn't appear offed by her joke, much to Frisk's relief.

  
The city square was alive with light and festivity when the two arrived. Monsters and humans alike were densely packed together, buzzing about. Dozens of booths were set up to offer food, trinkets and various games to entertain the younger ones.

  
Frisk was not an extroverted person by any means. The sheer number of people had her ready to turn tail, but it had been so long since she’d had a night of fun.

  
Sans was just the opposite. Lit with curiosity, he seemed enthralled by the mingling swath of humans and monsters. Had he ever been to a festival?

  
“Try not to let go,” he said, offering his hand.

  
Frisk’s face shot crimson. She stamped down the sudden surge of excitement, smiling as she took his hand. It was just so they weren't separated in the crowd. Or so she’d tell herself until she believed it.

  
She certainly wasn’t going to admit that he’d squeezed her hand as he took it. Or think about how soft his bones were as he laced his phalanges with her fingers.

  
Stars help her, if she were to get through the night. Certainly he was just being friendly—it wasn’t weird for two, long time friends to hold hands, was it?

  
Frisk tried not to think about any of it. This was the first time she and Sans had gotten the chance to hang out. She didn’t want to ruin the night by muddying it with her unrequited love.

  
Tonight, she would have fun.

  
The night flew by without warning. Before she knew it, the chilling bite of fall had settled on the air and the full moon was high in the sky.

  
While chowing down on french fries _drowned_ in ketchup, Frisk noticed Sans checking his phone for the dozenth time that night. She’d tried to ignore it, at first, but was beginning to wonder. Was he waiting for something? Why had he come out with her in the first place?

  
Over the years, Sans had orchestrated it so that the two of them were never alone for long. Was he expecting a get away call?

  
“Hey.” She tapped his hand, smiling. “It’s getting late. I think I’m going to head home. Work calls early, tomorrow!”

  
A lie, but leaving was better than someone dropping in on the two of them. How they’d avoided Alphys, Papyrus and the others all night was _beyond_ her. Certainly they’d visit the festival as well? It was the last night, after all.

  
Sans scratched his skull, his mouth pulling into a grimace. The white pinpricks of magic in his sockets flickered anxiously.

  
“Just a bit longer?” he asked, looking away from her. Did she detect a hit of blue on his milky bones, or was it a trick of the light? “The ferris wheel is all that’s left. I want to make sure you do everything before the festival ends.”

  
Why wouldn’t he look at her?

  
Frisk frowned, pushing up from the table. One more ride couldn’t hurt. Besides, she’d been wanting to ride the wheel all night, but Sans had always veered her elsewhere.

  
He was acting suspicious, in retrospect. Avoiding questions more than normal and never looking her in the eye. What on Earth was he up to?

  
“Alright,” she said, giving in. “What’s one more ride?”

  
The seats on the ferris wheel were _much_ smaller than they looked, leaving little room for the two of them. Squished together, Frisk tried not to think about Sans. Tried to ignore how nice it was to be so close to the skeleton and how warm he was through his jacket.

  
He put an arm along the back of the cart to give them more space, looking to the sky as they rose. She would pretend she didn’t enjoy having his arm around her.

  
_Stars_ , she needed to get a grip on her feelings. She needed to tell him her affections and move on. Things were getting out of hand.

  
“Gorgeous,” Sans muttered.

  
Frisk nodded, holding to the bar in front of her as she noted the constellations lighting the inky sky.

  
A light flickered in the corner of her eye and she stole a glance to Sans. Her breath caught as her gaze connected with his.

  
Magic crackled in his socket as he watched her. Gentle, it cast a blue shadow over his bones. His mouth curled into a smile as she looked to him.

  
How long had he been watching her? Why was he looking at her like that?

  
Frisk licked her lips as the wheel shuddered to a halt, leaving them at the peak. She paid little attention to the creaking seat as it rocked to and fro.

  
“Good luck getting the top, huh?” Her voice quavered as she looked away, heart in her throat.

  
“I paid the carny to keep us up here for a bit,” he responded.

  
She fidgeted, thumb rubbing over a cracked, peeling piece of paint on the bar. It crumbled beneath the pressure and she exhaled. When had she started holding her breath?

  
Overhead, a monstrous boom echoed. Frisk jumped, rocking the seat as the blue firework fizzled out.

  
Her eyes widened as another two were set off in quick succession, reds and greens lighting up the sky. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen fireworks. Had they always been that big?

  
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” Sans whispered suddenly, his breath brushing her ear.

  
Frisk jolted, turning towards the skeleton who was much closer than she had anticipated. Her heart pounded, anxious. What did he mean?

  
His arm slipped from the back of the cart, settling on her shoulders. If she had been standing, Frisk was _positive_ that she'd have collapsed right then.

  
This wasn’t fair—he was teasing her. She knew it. He'd played this sort of game before. She wasn't falling for it this time.

  
“Stop.” Pain tugged at her heart as she leaned back. “Don’t do that. You know that I—”

  
She bit her lip, sighing. This wasn’t how she wanted him to find out—pulled from her when she was too flustered to make sense of it.

  
“I know,” he said firmly, the magic in his socket sparking. “I’m a patient monster, Frisk. But you’re driving me crazy.”

  
Frisk blanked, shock outweighing her confusion. Was he meaning what she thought he did?

  
“How much longer are you going to make me wait?” He sounded desperate—melancholic. “Tell me if I’m getting the wrong signals, here. I’m going crazy. I’m not asking for an answer right now, but I need _something_.”

  
His brow furrowed as he retracted his arm, cupping his cervical vertebrae.

  
Frisk’s cheeks burned as she tightened her grip on the bar. Overhead, the thunderous echoes of the fireworks went on, unheeded.

  
“Do you really not know?” she whispered, looking up at him from beneath her lashes.

  
Sans laughed nervously, sweat beading as he rubbed his skull.

  
“You don’t exactly give a straight answer.”

  
Frisk bit her lip. Was this happening? Were they talking about this, now of all times?

  
“You’ve been avoiding me?” she pointed out. “How was I supposed to know that you…”

  
She sank into the seat, embarrassed. Were they _really_ talking about this? On a _ferris wheel_ of all places?

  
“I figured you’d come out eventually, so I could be sure.” His cheekbones glowed blue. Was he embarrassed, too?

  
“Well you made me wait long enough,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

  
“So, is that a yes?”

  
She looked up to him, cheeks rosy and hot. The anxiety clinging to her heart melted away as he smiled, his arm dropping around her shoulders to pull her close.

 

His hand rose to her cheek, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear as he dipped his head. His forehead pressed to hers and Frisk's lips parted in the tiniest of gasps. Her eyes fell shut as she leaned into the skeleton monster, soul fluttering.

  
She could taste his scent—rife with musky hints of ketchup and smoke. What would it feel like on her tongue? Would he taste the same way?

  
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket. Overhead, another firework went of, bathing the two of them in light.

  
Sans’s phalanges twisted in her hair, gentle bones cupping her neck to pull her closer.

  
Frisk’s breath caught, a soft cry leaving her lips as she felt his magic bathing her skin. Soft, playful and oh so tantalizing as it caressed her lips.

  
And then he was gone, his hand falling from her neck as he leaned back.

  
Frisk opened her eyes, a bit delirious. She blinked slowly, registering what had happened. Her mind was foggy, chest tight and body wound from his magic.

  
What was wrong? Why did he pull away?

  
Sans seemed content, a lazy smile on his face as he watched her reaction. He seemed to revel in the mess he had made of her.

  
“Why did you stop?” she protested, brows pulling together.

  
“When you’re _really_ ready, then I will,” he said smugly, pride obvious. “And when you do? I’ll make sure you can’t stand when I’m done.”

  
Frisk blushed scarlet, the heat going clear to her ears and down her neck.

  
“You better make good on that promise,” she warned.

  
The ferris wheel creaked to life, leading them down to the platform below.

  
Sans didn’t say a word, smiling all the while. He didn’t need to say a thing. Frisk knew that he’d make good on it—and she would make sure that it was soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like this work? Suggest another!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr: http://thesariskwriter.tumblr.com


	3. Shopping Fails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A grocery trip leads to an unlikely friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Undertale Papyrus and [Reader]. Post-Pacifist.  
> Inspired by the prompt: "You open the fridge and realize there's only one item left."  
> My first foray into second person!

You could’ve sworn you’d stashed away at least one jar of peanut butter.  Your cabinet didn’t seem to agree, despite your efforts of tearing it apart. After your fruitless search, you’d subjected yourself to leaving the warmth of your home.

 

Mother Nature had whipped up one Hell of a snow storm. You were beginning to understand why every shop had been packed to the brim yesterday—and regretting that you'd put off shopping in the first place.

 

The snow was already up to your ankles, muddied by the poor pedestrians who’d gotten caught in the mess. Your jacket hardly helped against the intense winds and biting cold. Maybe you should have grabbed your scarf—too little, too late, you supposed.

 

You let out a sigh of relief as you entered the store, the automatic doors swishing shut behind you. Several workers clamored by the windows, muttering about the weather. You could empathize—it didn’t look like it was about to clear up anytime soon.

 

The store was devoid of shoppers as you scoured the aisles for peanut butter. You entertained the idea of picking something else up. Just something small to get you through the storm. Maybe some sort of spaghetti or soup.

 

If the worker’s complaints were anything to go off of, the snow was accumulating quickly. You weren’t that tall. The idea of slugging back through knee-high snow wasn’t an appealing one.

 

The shelves had been wiped clean by, undoubtedly, last-minute shoppers. You could feel the groan in the back of your throat as you spotted the peanut butter. On the top shelf.

 

 _Of fucking course_.

 

You stole a glance down the aisle. Not a soul around. You didn’t need thrown out again for scaling the shelves. Once was enough, in your opinion.

 

You slid a foot onto the bottom shelf, gripping another as you hefted yourself up. The shelving creaked under your weight and you stretched for the peanut butter, fingertips brushing the plastic. It slid back. You bit down a wave of obscenities, glaring at the jar.

 

Playing hard to get, was it? Two could play that game.

 

Securing your grip, you hopped for it. Your fingers wrapped around the jar, lips curving into a victorious grin as you swept it off the shelf.

 

The cracking below was all you needed to realize your mistake. The base broke beneath your weight, sending you careening backward. The peanut butter went flying.

 

You clenched your eyes shut, bracing for the fall.

 

“Are you alright, human?” a voice boomed. You practically jumped out of your skin. “You appear to be in distress.”

 

Gloved hands held you up and you straightened, wary as you brushed a lock of hair behind your ear.

 

“Thank you.” You sighed, relief flooding in. “You really saved me…there.”

 

Words escaped you as you looked at the smiling skeleton monster. Your heart sank as you took in the sheer size of him.

 

He was massive. Just how tall _was_ he?

 

You tried your best to not cringe, tearing your gaze away. The peanut butter jar hadn't rolled far. Could you grab it and bolt in time?

 

You should your head.

 

The monsters hadn’t been in the city for long—maybe a year? You’d never run across them in your daily travels, though there were few and far between. They weren't _supposed_ to be dangerous. A fact that was harder to believe when you had a living, towering skeleton peering down at you.

 

You had to give him the benefit of the doubt, though. He _had_ saved you from a world of pain.

 

“Are you certain?” His brow furrowed, concern shining in his lit sockets. How did it even _do_ that? “You are not hurt?”

 

Feigning your best smile, you shook your head.

 

“Thank you,” you replied, the words clipped as you shifted your weight. You needed to lighten up—it wasn’t like he was going to eat you. Right? “Short people and shelves don’t get along.”

 

The skeleton laughed—a nasally, merry sound that tugged the corner of your lips. He couldn’t be so bad if he had a sense of humor.

 

He bent down, scooping up the abandoned jar and inspecting in closely.

 

“What is this?” he said, loud voice reverberating through the store. Was he yelling to sound intimidating? Somehow, you didn’t think that was the case.

 

“Peanut butter.” You took it from him with a smile. “I forgot to go shopping before the storm hit. Probably going to pick up something for spaghetti. I dunno.”

 

The lights in his sockets light up and you shifted awkwardly.

 

Here you were, talking to a skeleton—what on earth were you supposed to say? How were you supposed to politely excuse yourself from a conversation with a monster?

 

“I see!” he exclaimed. “I, the Great Papyrus, am a master chef! My spaghetti is the best! I shall accompany you to gather the ingredients!”

 

Your eyes widened and you waved your free hand rapidly. That wasn’t what you had meant!

 

Papyrus didn’t seem to catch on as he locked a skeletal arm with yours and started down the aisle. You tripped over your feet to keep up. Just how long were his legs? You felt like a _mouse_!

 

By the time the two of you reached the checkout, you were spent. On the bright side, you wouldn’t have to do a cardio workout anytime soon. You had to admit that Papyrus was a bit of a goofball and innocent as could be.

 

Enthusiastic, he had gone on about his brother, Sans. Another skeleton, you guessed,  who spouted off poor puns and had a lackadaisical attitude. He’d mentioned how they’d recently moved into the city and were a bit wary of humans.

 

You spent more time wondering about monster reproduction than you were willing to admit. How did skeletons even do the do?

 

“Paps,” one of the workers called out cheerfully. “Hey, buddy. How's your bro doing?”

 

You raised a brow, looking toward Papyrus as you loaded the conveyor belt. Was he a regular? You frequented the store—why hadn’t you run into him before now?

 

The two conversed about the weather as you rifled through your wallet. Payday wasn’t until tomorrow. You frowned as the number on the screen rose.

 

You hadn’t meant to get so much. But Papyrus was an insistent creature—unwilling to part ways with anything. You briefly wondered if his brother was the same.

 

The thought of Halloween skeletons bouncing merrily about crossed your mind. You snorted quietly, pressing your lips together as not to outright laugh at the mental image. That was something you’d not be getting out of your head for awhile.

 

“Thirty even,” the clerk said absently, sparing a second from his conversation to look at you.

 

You bit your lip, stomach sinking. You only had twenty.

 

“Can you take—” You paused as Papyrus handed a card to the cashier. “What?”

 

“I shall cover the difference, human!” He smiled. How did he even do that?

 

Heat flushed your cheeks. _How did he know_?

 

“That’s okay.” You waved your hands wildly. “I’ll just get the peanut butter and pick up the rest later. No big deal.”

 

“Please place the amount on my card,” he went on cheerfully to the cashier. He glanced over his shoulder. “Consider this a kindness for your company. You may return the cost at a later date, if you wish!”

 

Your jaw went slack as the cashier handed Papyrus the receipt. The skeleton scooped up the bags, pedaling towards the door. You blinked, at a loss for words.

 

“Why did you do that?” you asked as the two of you reached the doors. “You didn’t need to pay for it.”

 

“You are kind,” he said, handing you the bags. “I have met many humans who are…not.”

 

Your heart constricted as his voice grew quiet. Who on earth could be cruel to such a sweet monster?

 

“Unlike them, you are kind,” he repeated. “Thank you.”

 

Your cheeks flushed. What on earth was your heart doing, pattering in your chest?

 

“Well, thank _you_.” You paused. “Can I have your number? So I can pay you back tomorrow?”

 

Papyrus’s sockets widened as he whipped out his phone. You couldn’t help the smile that curved your lips as he entered your number. Despite your initial thoughts on monsters, you were looking forward to seeing the excitable skeleton again.

 

“Now to brace for the cold.” You tucked your head, sighing. This wasn’t going to be pleasant. “Be careful, okay?”

 

Your eyes shot open as a scarf plopped around your shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric.

 

“You may return it tomorrow,” the skeleton said quickly. He rubbed his skull, a light tinge of orange across his high cheekbones. “I shall see you then?”

 

“Papyrus, I can’t—” You cut off as his expression fell. Hesitantly, you nodded. “Alright. But won’t you be cold?”

 

“Not at all!” he exclaimed. “For I, the Great Papyrus, have adjusted to the cold climate! The cold does not bother me, anyway!”

 

Laughter bubbled from your lips as you twisted the scarf around your neck. It was nice to see certain pop culture references affected even monsters.

 

“Well, thank you.” You smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Just text me whenever.”

 

You waved a quick goodbye, stepping through the doors and into the cold.

 

The wind didn’t seem as fierce nor the snow as biting as you made your way home. The venture hadn’t gone as planned, though you were glad for it. You hadn’t expected to meet a lovable monster and leave with his scarf around your neck.

 

You paused, phone buzzing in your pocket. The door to you apartment clicked shut behind you as you snagged the device.

 

_HELLO HUMAN! THIS IS THE GREAT PAPYRUS! I SHALL SEE YOU TOMORROW! HAVE A GOOD NIGHT!_

 

Your lips curled into a smile as you slid the phone back into your pocket.

 

Maybe having a monster friend wouldn’t be so bad. After all, Papyrus seemed nice enough.

 

You plopped the bags onto the kitchen table, collapsing on your couch. It had been a long, unexpectedly crazy day.

 

You shrugged off the jacket, pausing at the scarf still curled around your neck. Heat crept to your cheeks. Papyrus was too kind for his own good.

 

Despite yourself, you buried your face in the scarf. It smelled of snow and… _spaghetti sauce_?

 

You rolled onto your belly, stretching as you snuggled your face into the fabric. It was warm—comforting. 

 

Maybe monsters weren’t so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> 
> Find me on Tumblr: http://thesariskwriter.tumblr.com


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